University of Virginia Library

DRIFTING.

Well, summer at last is over,
Gone like a long, sweet dream,
And I am slowly waking,
As I drift along the stream.
This dolce far niente
Has been too much for me;
Nothing done on my picture,
Except that doubtful tree.
I went to the glen with Gervase,
And sketched one afternoon,
And would have made sunset studies,
But for the witching moon.

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The moon did all the mischief.
The moment I see it shine,
With a pretty woman beside me,
My heart's no longer mine.
But have I really lost it?
Or has it slipped away,
Like a child beguiled by summer,
Who will come home tired with play?
I wonder if I am feeling
The passion of my life?
Do I love that woman, Alice,
Enough to call her wife?
I think so, but I know not,
I only know 'tis sweet
To lie, as I am lying,
In sunset, at her feet;
Watching her face, as, thoughtful,
She leans upon her hand,
(Is it herself, or me, now,
She seeks to understand?)
While overhead the swallows
Fly home, with twittering cries,
And through the distant tree-tops
The moon begins to rise.
If we could only stay so,
In such a happy dream,
I would not for worlds awaken,
But drift along with the stream!